The Last Joke
by why so serious- The Joker
Summary: The Joker is dead, but his legacy lives on in his young captive. When Dick befriends her against Bruce's advice, the sometimes ugly, often painful truths of life come to light. Not the best summary, but bear with me. Make my day, review my fanfic! DickxOC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Gotham City was shrouded by gray foreboding clouds that important Friday night. Even as Bailey watched, more clouds poured in off the harbor. This is not a good night to be at sea, Bailey thought.

Bailey studied her reflection in the window. She stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms crossed, in front of the bay window facing Gotham City Harbor. Had a stranger seen her in those pivotal moments, before _he _came home, that stranger would have thought she was steeling herself for some great crucible. And so she was.

But no stranger had seen her for three years, save the strangest of them all. She had stayed in this condo with _him_ for three long and torturous years, kept in not by and deadbolts or padlocks or any crude metal barriers. No, the Joker had kept her feet firmly planted in this apartment by fear. "I have bombs under your parent's house", he had joyfully reminded her every time he left, "and three in each of their cars, and one strapped under your sister's bed. My men are watching every exit, so one foot outside this apartment, and-"

She shook her head forcefully, trying to banish the memories of his ugly painted face and focus on the task at hand. No longer would she endure his ridicule and threats and abuse. Last night, he had raped her for the last time- she had a Colt Peacemaker six-shot revolver tucked under one arm and a certain escape route. She would be gone before anyone heard the shot.

Yes, the Joker had insulted Bailey for the last time.

Familiar footsteps pounded in the hall outside. The Joker was coming home, Bailey knew. She slowly cocked the revolver, but did not yet draw it. Six shots she had, though she intended only to use two.

The footsteps were halfway down the hall.

Bailey quickly ran through the plan once more in her head. If she had timed it fight- and she knew she had- it would not fail.

The footsteps paused outside the door. Bailey heard the jingle of keys. She drowned the impulse to turn and shoot the monster through the door.

The door opened and a hideously scarred man stepped into the apartment. "Evening, Bailey," he said in a high and grating voice. Bailey watched his movement reflected in the window.

He closed the door and turned to lock it. Not wasting a moment, Bailey whipped around and pointed the revolver at the Joker's back. She steadied her hand and fired. The cacophony of the gunshot reverberated off the walls, and somewhere down the hall a neighbor screamed. The bullet hit its mark perfectly, at the dead center of the Joker's neck, severing the spinal cord upon impact.

Before the Joker's body had even hit the floor, Bailey faced the window again and fired a shot to its middle. The glass shattered and flew off into the night, carried by the gathering winds. Bailey heard doors opening and feet running in the hall. She tucked the gun into her pocket and swung herself out the window.

It was beginning to rain over Gotham, but Bailey just squinted and gripped the building's brick exterior harder. The bricks were huge, and crevices easy to find. She looked up quickly. She had judged correctly- she was on the ninth story, with only two more to climb to reach the rooftop. She drew in a big breath, and gingerly felt above her head for a handhold.

Bailey reached the rooftop in under two minutes. After hauling herself over the edge, she sat down, closed her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. The hardest three years of her life were over- the Joker was dead, and could torment her no longer. She laid back and laughed for first time since that mad clown had entered her life- she didn't care how loud she was who would hear her over the rain anyway? She was free to laugh and cry and curse the Joker or even pull out the revolver and fire a celebration shot if she wanted- the Joker was gone now, and Bailey was free.

She stood up and jumped and whooped. She took her sweater off and threw her arms wide open and let the freezing rain fall on her bare arms and face. This was the most alive she had felt in three years, and she would celebrate it as much as she could. Bailey was being reborn into a world she had left not by choice, but by the fiercest force. And by the fiercest force, she had taken that world back.

She opened her teary eyes and laughed again. Shining bright against the threatening clouds was a great circle, with the symbol of a bat in the middle.

Bailey sighed in relief. How could she have missed this? He had been the only uncertainty in her plan, the Batman had. But if he was being called now, then he would be here.

Yes, he would be here.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"He had knifes in every room of the house, in drawers, in cupboards, even in the bathroom cabinet. In addition to forty knives, we've found twelve guns, nine hand grenades, three unassembled pipe bombs, and four gallons of gasoline hidden behind his couch. This guy had more weapons than an army brigade."

Despite the heavy mask the Batman wore, Lieutenant Jim Gordon still clearly saw the frown on his face. The masked man reached out a hand, as heavily gloved as his face was masked, and turned over one of the knives laid out on the kitchen counter. He turned to Gordon: "Even if this man has every type of weapon the Joker used, we still won't be able to convince the public that this man was him."

Gordon leaned on the kitchen counter and closed his eyes a moment. He steadied his breathing and listened to the sounds around him: detectives sifting through drawers and cabinets; a CSI team scanning the walls for any hidden enclaves; a woman from his unit taking a statement from the landlady. Had it really been just an hour since he had arrived here?

Gordon spoke without opening his eyes. "That's not the only thing we have to go on. We've found several diaries that indicate this man," Gordon nodded to the living room, where the baffling body lay, "was in a state of extreme mental agitation and anguish around the times of the Jokers exploits. They're all very confusing, he obviously wasn't coherent when he wrote in it."

"Yeah, he definitely had issues," said a cadet from Gordon's unit passing through the kitchen.

"What about the Jokers clothes? They're easily recognized, if we had some of them we may be able to prove this man was the Joker."

Gordon opened his eyes and looked at Batman. A rare smile crossed his face. "We're luck on that count. One of my boys found a receipt from a dry cleaner for a tailored purple suit, along with this." Gordon handed Batman an evidence bag containing a well worn business card. Batman frowned at it for a moment, then looked back at Gordon. "A tannery?" Even though Batman's voice was disguised, Gordon didn't miss the skepticism.

"Not just any tannery," Gordon replied. He whipped out his phone and showed Batman the open internet browser. "I looked them up on the web. They're the only place in the Gotham that tailors purple kid gloves."

Dick crouched in the shadow of the electric box, listening as the footsteps crossed the roof. This _was _not what he had come up here for.

He was beginning to regret ever coming along tonight- Bruce wouldn't even let him into the crime scene, and Dick wasn't even sure why they were here. Bruce had been very touchy lately, and Dick was feeling more like a tagalong than a sidekick.

So here he was, on top of the building where the Joker had supposedly been living, watching a unidentified figure looking over the edge of the roof. He couldn't be sure, but Dick had an inkling that whoever it was was one of the Jokers men- or even the Joker himself, come back to play more of his sick mind games.

The figure turned around suddenly, and Dick ducked back behind the electric box.

It would by just like him, Dick thought, to set up his own death scene, only to come back from the dead to scare the living souls out of everyone. He had nearly thrown the city into complete anarchy during his nine-month reign of terror three years ago, and it would be silly to think that the thrill of chaos had simply worn off over time.

Risking a glance from behind the box, Dick leaned around the corner. While he wasn't looking, the figure had turned to sit on the roof, back facing the city. Though the face was half-hidden by soaked, stringy hair, and shadowed by the clouds, it clearly belonged to a girl. She was about Dick's age, eighteen or nineteen, and she was crying and smiling at the same time- tears of joy.

The girl looked up suddenly and Dick whipped back behind the electric box.

But he wasn't fast enough. The girl's shoes scraped on the gravel roof as she stood. "You can come out from behind there, Robin, I saw you."

"It just doesn't add up- if this guy was the Joker- and at the moment, it seems likely- how did he live here all this time without anyone realizing what he was?" Gordon sighed. "Even if we gather conclusive evidence from inside this apartment, it will still take months, if not years, to convince the powers that be that the Joker really is dead." He sat down on the kitchen floor, utterly exhausted.

The Batman flipped through the witness reports on the clipboard. He frowned. "Always paid rent on time, never noisy or disruptive,- 'a model tenant'?" He took no pains to hide the disbelief in his voice at this last comment.

"That would be the landlady- according to her, he was the best tenant she'd ever had. The neighbors, on the other hand, have mixed opinions of him. According to them, he never said more than 'good morning' to anyone but the landlady." Gordon frowned- should he tell the Batman his suspicion?

He rose with a swiftness that surprised him. "Come into the bedroom with me, there's something I think you should see."

Gordon pointed to the bed. "See? There were clearly two people living here. The neighbors, the landlady- they only ever mentioned one person- the dead man- living here."

The Batman nodded. "So you suspected it, too. I wondered if you had noticed. I first suspected there were two people living here when I saw that there were _two _depressions in the mattress, instead of just one."

Gordon felt the excitement rising in him. "Me too. I checked the bathroom cabinet after finding that, and found lady's razors and deodorant, as well as tampons. There was also a hairbrush with light brown hair in it. And Mr. Comedian out there"- Gordon again jerked his head toward the front room- "is blonde."

"But _why_?" The Batman shook his head in disbelief. "Why give up terrorizing Gotham to be live with his woman? It's completely out of character for the Joker. There is something we're missing."

"My thoughts exactly- giving up wreaking chaos on Gotham to live the good life with his sweetheart? Didn't sound like the Joker to me, either." The smirk faded from Gordon's face, and he looked suddenly grave. "Then I checked the rent records- this guys been living here for three years- he moved in only days before the Joker disappeared from public view. And the apartment is listed as having only one resident." Gordon drew a breath. "Since no one else knew about the woman living here, I believe that the Joker had a hostage. He abandoned torturing the masses to torture his captive."

"Instead of unhinging the collective psyche, he decided to unhinge just one- I can see the attraction it would hold for him, having that kind of power at his fingertips all the time." The Batman nodded, clearly agreeing with Gordon. "Do we have any other clues to her identity?"

"Not at the moment, but my boys will dust the whole place down for fingerprints and- _WHERE_ did you come from!?" Gordon jolted as a second costumed phantasm appeared at his side.

"Sorry, commissioner." Robin turned to Batman. "We got a situation on the roof."

"I'll have some of my boys there right away." Now, Gordon was all business.

"No," Robin said firmly. "It's best if you don't get involved with this."

"I _am_ getting involved with this, I am done listening to a hormonal teenager in a costu-"

But Jim Gordon was alone in the room; the caped crusaders were already headed for the roof.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Sorry it's so short. I'll get another chapter up as soon as I'm able.

Chapter 3

"Are you sure? He wasn't just some nutter imitating the Joker?" Dick's latest question brought Bruce back from his thoughts to the rooftop overlooking Gotham harbor. This strange girl's last words resonated in his head: "The dead man downstairs was the Joker and I was his captive. I killed him."

As far as Bruce could tell, he and Dick had been standing here for some minutes, listening to a strange girl tell her story. She was about Dick's age and height, and sopping wet. Bruce wasn't quite sure why she was on the roof, but from the way she spoke, he doubted her mind was all there.

"Bailey- is that what you said your name was?" Dick broke the silence again.

"Yes," she said, "That's right. Bailey."

"How did you get up here?"

"I climbed up the outside wall-" Bailey gestured to the side of the building facing the harbor- "after I shot out the window."

"Are you serious? You _climbed_ up that slippery brick wall, _in the rain_, and hauled yourself up here, and no one saw you?" Bruce almost cringed; he wished that Dick would hide his disbelief. It was not a good way to talk to suspects- or victims.

Bailey's voice was eerily calm. "It didn't really start raining until after I got up here. I don't know if anyone saw me or not, but I doubt it. I chose tonight to carry out my escape because it was overcast, so it was unlikely for anyone to see me."

Dick opened his mouth, but Bruce cut him off. "You said you were his captive. For how long?" His voice was gravelly and rough, but Bailey was unperturbed.

"Three years."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded evenly, never taking her eyes off of him. "I always knew what day it was- he read through the _Gotham Times_ every day, and watched the television news every evening after he came home from-" she paused- "wherever it was he worked."

"Did he ever let you out? Has anyone else seen you with him since he kidnapped you?" Dick once again took the helm.

"No, I've been in that apartment for three years. I'm pretty sure that the neighbors didn't know I lived with him. I can't be sure, though, I never saw any of them, so I could never talk to them. You have to understand, he _never _let me out. I wasn't even sure what floor I was on until I escaped." Bruce noted that she sounded more eager now than when he himself had questioned her; clearly, she was more comfortable talking to Dick.

There was an awkward silence.

"Do the police know who he was?" Bailey's eyes looked up at Bruce hopefully. "Have they figured it out?"

Bruce nodded. "They found the weapons, and a receipt for one of his suits. Gordon, the police chief, found a business card for a place that makes purple gloves. He'll follow up on his findings as far as he's able. Even so, it will be hard to prove that this man was-" Bruce turned quickly. Footsteps pounded up the stairs to the rooftop. Gordon's men were coming. He could hear Dick grinding his teeth already.

"I _told_ them not to get involved in this!" Dick snarled.

"It's good that they're coming- we can turn Bailey over to them. They'll take her back to her family, and-"

"No!" Bailey's scream tore through the night. Robin jumped.

"What is it?" Batman was facing Bailey again before she shut her mouth.

"I'm not going with them!" She backed away from both of them, her eyes wild with animalistic fear. "I'm not going with the police! Take me anywhere but back with them!" Tears streaked down her face.

"Wait! Don't back, up, you'll fall over the-" The moment Dick said it, he wanted to put his foot in his mouth. Of course she was going to keep backing up now; she _wanted_ to fall.

As Bailey neared the edge, Bruce desperately tried to undo the damage Dick had done. "You'll be safe with them- they'll take you back to your family and never have to come back here. You'll be alright."

She was at the edge now. Tears continued to streak down her face. She looked Bruce mournfully in the eye.

"I have no family."

And before Bruce could stop her, she leapt over the edge.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Dick and Bruce hurtled toward the ground. It rushed to greet him, and he spread his wings seconds before he smashed into the concrete. Bailey grunted as he grabbed her from her free-fall.

He angled himself expertly to alight on the top of an adjacent apartment complex. Holding Bailey firmly in one arm, he motioned to Dick to follow suit. The moment Dick joined them, Bruce jumped up and caught on a gust of wind off the harbor.

Back to the cave.

"Are you hurt?" They were back in the cave below Wayne Manor, and Bailey was curled up on a surplus army cot pushed into a corner. Dick felt stupid for asking, of course Bailey was hurt. She clutched her side and leaned precariously on the edge of the cot. She probably had broken ribs.

"Bru- I mean Batman? I think you should-"

"You've taken a first aid class, right?" Bruce, who still wore his mask, ignored Dick's question.

"Yeah, why?"

"I have to go back to the crime scene and sort this whole thing out with Gordon." He tucked his grappling gun into his utility belt, and opened the batmobiles door. "I need you to take care of her."

"But- you're just leaving?" Dick asked incredulously. "What about the girl?" He didn't understand- Bruce had never acted like this before.

The batmobiles engine growled menacingly. "Don't expect me back until morning," Bruce shouted over the engines growl. He sped off without another word, leaving Dick in a cloud of dust.

"Hmph." Dick hunched his shoulders and slouched off to the supply cupboard. As he rooted through boxed of bandages and thread, he make what small talk he could with his "guest".

"So, uh, Bailey, are you from Gotham?" She nodded without a word.

"Yeah, I was born here, too- in Crime Alley, unfortunately. You know, that area of town used to the metropolitan- a tourist destination, believe it or not. Ah, here we are." Dick jumped up to reach a fresh box of bandages from the top shelf.

He turned to Bailey, and a sudden realization hit him like bullet. He could hardly bandage Bailey's broken ribs if she kept her shirt on. "Er… Bailey?" He gulped as she looked up at him helplessly from the cot. "Do you think your ribs are broken?" Stupid question.

Bailey nodded slowly; she was clearly in pain. "Well, uh, I can't bandage you unless you- er-" He gulped again. He'd never even asked girls he loved to do this- "take your shirt off."

"Oh, is that it?" Bailey sat up straight. With one swift tug, her shirt was off.

"Hey, that's from last year's Victoria's Secret winter collection, isn't it?" The moment Dick said it, he wanted to stuff his shoe down his throat. His cheek's blazed scarlet as Bailey convulsed with laughter.

"Yeah, it is." Her smirk faded. "The Joker had a thing for lingerie."

"Oh." Dick stuffed the proverbial foot further down the proverbial throat. "Okay, well, if you could lay down, I just need to feel which ribs are- What?" Bailey was giggling.

"You're blushing bright red!" She bit her lip as she laid down, but that didn't stop her shaking with laughter.

Dick carefully laid his hands on her abdomen and began to feel her ribcage. Bailey no longer laughed, but breathed evenly. She frowned when Dick poked her in the side. "Don't, please don't," She pleaded.

Dick motioned for her to sit up and took up the roll of bandages. "Right- uh- put your hands over your head so I can wrap the bandages around." Bailey did so, and Dick couldn't help but notice the way her breasts stuck out. He knew he shouldn't think of her that way, but he admired her figure.

He bit his lip and hugged her, switching the bandages from one hand to the other behind her back. Before long, her torso was firmly swathed in gauze. "That feel alright?"

Bailey looked Dick in the eye and nodded. Dick couldn't fathom the look she gave him. It was almost…

The batmobile's lights swept across the cave, throwing Dicks shadow against the wall. He turned around resignedly. No doubt Bruce would have another round of questions ready for him. Lately, it was all questions and no answers with Bruce.

"How is she?" Dick bit his lip; his first thought was hardly polite.

"_Bailey_ is fine. A few of her ribs are broken, so I wrapped them up."

Bruce didn't even look at Dick when he answered. "Good. I'll send Alfred down with some aspirin and food."

Dick was indignant. "We can't just leave her down here! You have a mansion full of spare bedrooms!"

"Aaaand we also have identities to protect."

"Oh _come on_, who's she going to tell?"

Dick jumped back a step as Bruce loomed over him. "She spent three years at the Joker's mercy. We don't know what she'll do. Now you will stop questioning my authority, or you'll be sleeping down here too."

"Your _authority- _we'll if that isn't a laugh!" Dick spluttered. "I may be your side kick, but I've never been your minion! You know what, I will sleep down here!"

Bruce didn't answer, but continued checking the equipment on his utility belt. Dick stormed to the back of the cave, and punched the button for the cargo elevator.


	5. Chapter 5

"Alfred?"

Alfred Pennyworth turned away from the linen cabinet to find Dick standing next to him, looking exhausted and sullen. Alfred braced himself for a wave of complaints.

"Yes, Master Grayson?"

"Why do you think Bruce has been so uptight lately?"

These were not the words Alfred was expecting at all. He set the linens he held on a random shelf. "What do you mean by uptight?"

"Oh," Dick looked pensive for a moment. "He's just had a short fuse with me this last week, and _especially _with Robin. He's been ordering me around and telling me off for little things like…" Dick leaned against the wall and frowned. "Oh, like not keeping my costume clean. Since when has he cared if my costume is dirty anyway?" Dick rolled his eyes.

Alfred sighed, and closed his eyes. "Dick, how would you like hot cocoa?"

****************************************************************************************************

Dick breathed in the cocoas sweet aroma and leaned back in the chair. As he stretched his legs, his strained back relaxed. He sat next to Alfred at the table in Wayne manors large kitchen. Rain pattered softly against the windows.

Alfred sighed, the third time he had done so in the past minute. He too held a mug of cocoa. "So you'd like to talk about Bruce?"

"Yeah. Lately, he's been so ticked at me, and I don't think it's something I'm doing." He sipped his cocoa.

"It's not you, Dick. Bruce has been feeling…" Alfred frowned, searching for the words. "Bruce has been feeling older recently. The years he has spent being Batman, the years without a love life, without friends, are beginning to weigh on him." He sipped his cocoa. "He's watching the lives of everyone around him move forward, while he stands still. All his friends- those few he has- all have families, careers… everything he desires."

"But look at all he's done! If it weren't for him, Gotham would still be a petri dish for corruption," Dick said. "He's accomplished more than any of his friends."

"But who can he tell? Bruce has very few real friends; those people who are friends with Bruce Wayne only know half the man. Has it ever occurred to you that there are only four people in all of the world who know who is under that mask? As far as everyone else knows, Bruce Wayne is just a rich man who doesn't know what to do with his money."

"I- I…" Dick was struck numb. His mug suddenly felt unbearably hot; his eyelids heavy.f

"Ah, Alfred? I'll need to borrow some sheets. I'm going to sleep in the cave tonight." It was the only thing Dick could think of to say.

Alfred raised his eyebrow, but Dick shook his head. He would explain tomorrow morning.

*************************************************************************************

Alfred gathered the sheets and pillows without asking for further explanation, and he didn't question Dick when informed that he should bring two breakfasts down. Dick was standing at the elevator leading to the cave when Alfred did something unexpected.

"Dick?"

Dick was turned, surprised. Alfred rarely called by his nickname.

"Goodnight, Dick." Alfred swept Dick into a tight hug, rustling his hair and squeezing his shoulders. "Sleep well." And Alfred walked off down the hall without looking back.

The elevator dinged behind him, but Dick didn't move. Where had that come from? Alfred has always thought of Dick as a grandson, but rarely were there outward signs of it. It was usually things like a chocolate on Dick's pillow, a note in his back pack, a home baked cookie in his lunch. But a hug… that was rare.

Dick shuffled into the elevator. It didn't really matter why, he supposed. He closed his eyes and sunk to the floor of the elevator. He had much more pressing things to think about.

_**Authors Note: Again, it's short, but expect another chapter this week.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors note: Sorry for the delay! I hope your holidays were good, mine were very restful. Now, of course, it's back to the daily grind, so updates could be far between for awhile. Thanks for reading ;-)**

Dick was fast asleep, on a second cot several feet distant from Bailey's cot. Bailey's own cot was settled comfortably into a corner of the cave where the warm air pooled, warding off the usual underground chill.

Bailey did not sleep. Her arms were folded under her head, and her eyes followed the bats flitting back and forth across the cave ceiling. Her mind was elsewhere.

The last three years of her life had been as close to hell as one could get while on earth. The Joker's psychological torture had been endless; the threats unspoken but clearly implied; the knowledge that those she loved were dead- even the location of his apartment, overlooking the harbor, served as an ever-present reminder that the world went on without her.

But most of all, the knowledge that she was utterly, absolutely _alone._

Alone- such a full and dynamic word for such an empty feeling, Bailey mused. The feeling had been her companion for the past three years; it had followed her around like a stray dog that does not have a home and is not sure if it will ever have one. It offered no solace, and no conversation, but its presence seemed to radiate out from her in great, despairing waves. The feeling was so strong that someone _had_ to notice it sooner or later, they_ had _to come looking for its source they _had _to discover the poor girl trapped in that lonely apartment. _Someone had to._

But no one had discovered her, and her desperation had only increased as first the months, then the years, dragged limply by. Eventually, she had come to realize that she would never be found, and never escape unless she took hold of the reins of her life herself. And this night, she had done just that.

On the cot, she drew the sheets closer around herself.

Was Dick asleep? She was too nervous to look. His face swam in her head, and she smiled. He was handsome, the most handsome man she had seen in a long time. Seeing his face made her feel warm inside. Of course, she thought, anyone would look good compared to the Joker. The ugliness of his soul made even his face revolting.

Bailey tossed the blanket aside and paced around the cave anxiously. Why was she thinking about him now? She was rid of him, _rid of_ _him_. Had she not escaped his clutches? Was his foul body not wasting away in the morgue right now? _Was his stinking, rotten face not out of her life for good?_

Dick turned over and mumbled in his sleep. She stopped, suddenly aware that she was tense; her jaw was set and both hands were curled into fists. She sat down on the cot again. What was wrong with her?

Although she was not tired, she lay down. What _was_ wrong with her? The Joker, _that_ was what was wrong with her. Yes, he was gone, but the three years of torture were not soon forgotten. The scars would linger for a long time.

A tear slid down her face. Would she ever feel whole again? Only time would tell.

A draft blew through the cave, carrying freezing spray off the waterfalls. Dick shivered and rolled over. He wasn't asleep, and he looked Bailey in the eye. "You cold?"

She nodded. "Yes, it's drafty in here. He doesn't make you sleep here all the time, does he?"

"No," said Dick, gathering the blanket and pillow, "he just didn't want you to know who we-" He froze. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that, I really didn't. What I meant was… well…" He bit his lip.

Bailey completed his thoughts for him. "Batman didn't want me knowing who he really is, so he made me sleep down here. I understand."

Dick nodded and yawned. "I don't care what he thinks, though, I'm not sleeping down here tonight and neither are you. C'mon, I'll set you up in one of the guest rooms." He scooped up Bailey's blanket and headed for the elevator. Bailey followed.


End file.
